Friday Fictioneers: Flesh Finch

I’m back in the room, sorry Rochelle i’ve been on holiday to my record room for a couple of weeks, and as a result have been rushed off my feet.

Kudos to Douglas M Macllroy for the snap.

Its been about 2 weeks for me of not doing this, i’ve felt weird and somehow disconnected, missing the beautiful 100 word tales from my fellow Friday Fictioneers, just goes to show life goes on. Hope everyone is ok and staying inside and away from other humans.

Thinking cap on and quickly removed as half an idea came last night, let’s see where it goes.

On My Marks…

Get Set…

GO!!!

Betsy and Billy hadn’t been out for over 4 weeks now. Betsy was dead. Taken by the virus.

The Finch arrived from wherever, every day about the same time. Landed on the sill and tap, tap, tapped on the glass; looking to the spot next to the phone where the bowl of seeds used to be.

The phone lines were down, something to do with 5G installation, the food had dried up; the seeds the last to go. He had water, a kettle and gravy granules, Betsy loved gravy. 

“All things considered she didn’t taste too bad with gravy”, thought Billy

There we go, 100 words on the nose, let’s hope it doesn’t come to this, a cannibal caper.

35 comments

  1. I started thinking “Ooohh, NO!” about the time the finch couldn’t find the bowl of seeds. Gruesome. But would you really want to eat someone who died of COVID? Kind of risky, but maybe he didn’t care.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Missed you, Shrawls. And what a way to come back.
    But yanno… in these times it would have been wasteful not to, um, benefit from Betsy’s demise… Once cooked, any virus would be killed off anyway…
    Ahem.

    Liked by 1 person

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